Fear: Power I
by Burned-Out Sage
Summary: Insight into the lies and games that ninjas live by in the shadows. A Naruto forced to be strong, if it does not break his village first. No pairings as of yet.
1. Chap 1: Babysitting beasts

Disclaimer: why yes, Naruto is mine. Bring it.

**Fear: Power**  
><em>by the Burned-Out sage<em>

Of ninjas, and _why _they do what they do. A deeper, darker look into the Shadow. 

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><p>"Why are you doing this father?" His tone rose with every step like a looming iceberg, but he stopped just short of vaulting over the desk and looming over the seated old man cradling the baby. It did not stop the icy disdain, or perhaps genuine anger carefully bound, that tumbled out, "This is not what he would have – no this is madness! Senility! I will take –"<p>

"Stop." Killing intent filled the word, held it, and ebbed out as the baby began to scream and thrash. Children react honestly and poorly to killing intent.

Few decent men can persist arguing the face of a screaming child. These were not decent men, they were shinobi, but for the moment the argument was cast aside. The old man essayed some rocking motions, the younger looking around hopefully for a woman to magically materialize and … fix it. He had a feeling low in his stomach of primitive disgust uneasy with the idea of children; one at war with … _something_he thought quite gone.

_ Something_ won this time. Impatiently he reached out for the child, ah, how open Sensei was, he could stretch and pluck the head of the God of the Shinobi like a flower. The thought skittered away as the baby screamed, no, if he was killing anything tonight it would be this noisemaker.

Cautiously he cradled the child, touch, warmth and scent altering, projecting comfort, safety. An eternity passed, and the child went back to sleep. Yawning, fists clenched waving, he could see how the child would be cute. He was annoyed with himself, angry - really? He was losing control. He needed more sleep.

"Quite a set of lungs on the boy, a good predictor, he'll have stamina." Chatter, to mend the trust that had been growing ragged between the two men for too long." Ibiki will be amused his technique is good for something outside T & I."

Sibilant laughter. Smiling thinly, the young man accepted the olive branch. "It works amazingly after you wake up in the wrong bed Sensei." Adding mockingly," Sadly its utility would be … lost on you." Letting the implication of the old mans age, his lack of compassion linger; no, he might not be angry, but the matter of the child was not done. Cruelty must have a purpose, and he was seeking the purpose.

Why? Why hurt, no cripple the child's future? Cruelty must have a purpose?

Sarutobi sighs, he could divert the other two, but not this one. Subtlety was his hallmark, and he could not be delayed much more. And damn it, he didn't have the time! If it needed to be done clumsily, who would judge him - two weeks into the worst disaster in the history of the village, and his student wanted to challenge him now?

He was deadly tired. He was already thwarted by the Council, and he would not allow the boy to become a weapon! He … did not know if he could save his student from what he suspected. He desperately wanted to believe, but the pit inside him whispered inevitability. Let it be done!

He folded himself further into the chair, looking up at the student he had hoped would someday be the Godaime. "Some things we do boy, because we must. The Hokage's hands are dirtier than his shinobi.'"

The Sannin inclines his head, waiting for the next step, the give and thrust of bargaining. He was the next logical successor, and his hands … they were far filthier than any Konoha-nin could imagine, yet the idea of abandoning the Yondaime's, no lets say it, Minato's child, not so pure were you Min-chan, seemed on the surface of it: unnecessary.

What benefit was there to concealing his paternity, when half the village were planning to take bloody revenge on the resurrected Kyubi that had taken their beloved Yondaime? Accusations aside, Sarutobi was not yet senile, so why?

The Professor makes a gesture that apparently can travel through the privacy wards, interesting if alarming, how many secrets had been spoken aloud tonight here? Anbu materializing by his side to take the sleeping child elsewhere as the recently reinstated Hokage wearily pulled on his pipe.

His hands were eager to relinquish his sleepy burden, the child of someone he admired, perhaps even fond of, was now a bargaining chip, and it felt … wrong to be holding him. He was glad he never had children. Shinobi ate their young.

He would not find out the why for a long time, by which point he would not care, either for the why or about Uzumaki Naruto's wellbeing, because the riposte hit him with a weight that blew apart his assumptions, shattered too many plans and messily devoured his future, and perhaps most lamentable, _something_else, if only because that was of least value to a ninja.

Sarutobi took his time, exhaling a long bitter stream of fevered smoke before, "The survey of the damage in the Forest – they found your lab Orochi."

Something human; misshapen and unpleasant to look upon; but a man nonetheless, died that day. Naruto never found out that the last human thing Orochimaru ever did was to rock him in his arms.

Orochimaru forgot the very next hour as he fled Jiraiya, Konoha and the man closest to being his father he tried to kill.


	2. Chap 2: Ninja no brothers

Disclaimer: yup, I found it and I'm keeping it. Bring it.

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><p><strong>Fear: Power II<strong>

_by the Burned_Out_Sage_

Why the truth is something only the powerful can afford. Or is it the other way around?

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><p>The most manly ninja in Konoha needed a break. He needed a drink. A lot of drinks. Kami, maybe the boss would drink with him; he hated drinking alone.<p>

Wincing, the train of thought terminated in pain. The drinking partner that was gone. Partners?

No it had to be partners. He couldn't ... couldn't hate Ohime, ... yet. Maybe? From sitting to standing, stiff muscles protesting, to aimless pacing; he always thought in motion.

_Fucking snake. Why the fuck ... why did you have to be so smart-stupid?_

Snarling, his voice a staccato monotone matched his steps, an old familiar litany polished the stone in his heart. Unconscious, his steps beat counterpoint to each mangled curse to destination: sake. Drunken blindness.

Equally unconscious, he found himself at Min – the Hokage's house – startled into partaking of the silence that gripped the streets. No grieving wails or pained moans, and if he ignored the scent of burnt and ash he carried he could smell jasmine and sakura.

Anger burned hotter than hatred. The stone melted from flame. It was obscene that this house survived. It was obscene what they were doing to rewrite the past – damn old men!

"Damn." No words left, not for this last respect he owed his student, the responsibility he owed his friend's child. Duty was a muddy, bloodsoaked word in his mouth.

He hated his sentimentality that dragged him to grief, and oh kami did his heart break seeing this house.

_A manly man will not cry._Bullshit, he'd cried for days, but men can cry when there's sake being drunk.

He dreaded this, he didn't ..., his heart labouring, not yet, he sought solace and found it where all superb ninja do. He lied to himself: He was doing this for ... yes, he was doing this for himself. Lazy bastard that Jiraiya.

_The best lies are the ones you believe in._

'Since I'm here, well, finish this last job before going on a month long bender, hey maybe I'll go find Hime! And we can run off and get drunk like that time and we'll...' soothingly buffered in the pleasant fantasies of just how he was going to bend the invariably drunk and beautiful love of his life when he met her, he went to meet the restored owner of this house.

One of the few things Sarutobi Hiruzen liked about being Hokage was the house. Not its size though it was spacious; his family was mostly estranged and his wife was happily vacationing in Tetsu no Kuni. For the last sixteen years. Hah, vacation. Hag.

Not its location, though if you cared about such things, it was in the wealthiest, most hidden and consequently best defended part of Konoha. Pity the Nine Tails had wrecked the genjutsu covering Midori Cho; the last dreamweaver to visit Konoha was decades ago. Long standing genjutsu defences were the staple of village defence.

His pen scratched quickly, wasn't there a genjutsu specialist clan that was cursed, young heir on the way? That or that Kurenae, Kurenai, hmm, he tasted the sound briefly, and decided Kurenai; check to see if she was still alive, they needed a genjustsu specialist if the kitsune came around for revenge.

What was he thinking about? Pondering briefly, he'd been up with the heads of the surviving clans too long this night – ah yes, the Hokage's House. It was a masterpiece of nin-designed architecture. Listening posts, spying telescopes, secret passageways, a delightful toy to a younger Hiruzen. Not a scratch on the scrying ball but that was unique, and in the Hok – his office.

One practise that retained amusement and value was the face-before-the-door. Even experienced ninja fell prey to it. Often the man he spied outside the door wore a more honest face then the one who stepped inside. The difference told him much about the man.

He dismissed the council when he saw the anger in the stride of his last student. Never on his face, he'd taught him better, but he'd slipped enough that his gait screamed warning – Death and Disaster walk here – Away - if you value your life! Fractured when he stood outside silently; was he expecting an invitation? No, not his style.

Did he honestly believe once upon a time that the boy would grow up to be a failure? He could only see the man now, more powerfully built than most shinobi, wreathed invisibly in the memories of smoke and ash, the tremendous concentration of chakra poised to be brought down. It suited him, this grim visage, that was the rock the village's hopes had anchored in. He would have made a splendid Hokage.

Tired, that thought made him so tired. Disappointed by the first, betrayed by the second - _believing in your own lies now Old Man? Who betrayed whom, eh?_

He stilled his mocking inner voice: troubling that it sounded twin to his former student. He needed to focus on Jir – and as quickly as that thought came it was gone, reversed by the spyglass's reflection . Gone was the scion of samurai and ninja, the warrior-sage that fought the Kyubi alone and survived.

Here was a perverted lecher that looked like he couldn't spare two thoughts to rub together, visibly - obviously lechering at newly instated Inazuka heir. He avoided watching the ensuing slap, no slaps, he could hear them from a floor up and wondered why the only successor left was the who wore the fool's mask constantly.

"Good ninja fool the enemy; the superb ninja fools his allies," he taught a long time ago, to his last three students. Immediately then, Jiraiya interrupted, "What about his friends?"

Hiruzen wished he hadn't taught them so well then. "A truly superb ninja has no friends, he has only duty."

It seemed it was a lesson all his students had taken to heart. Even if Jiraiya never acknowledged it, the keys to the soul of his student was his duty.

And now he would have to destroy it.

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><p>Thats a record! Only months to wait for a chapter *grins*. Sadly though guys and gals, sometime in November the Sage's laptop was stolen. Hit, snatch and run. Which burned the Sage out way more than he started out.<p>

I don't have reliable access to a keyboard or the 'net, so the updates will be equally unreliable. Apologies gang but thems the breaks.

A few facts on the story, now that I know concretely it will be a story and not just whimsy. It concerns the genesis of bijuu's often rather contradictory if not outright bipolar roles in the Hidden Villages, as the title hints at. Intended to flesh out the world with little ficlets that can be unintrusively slid into the backstory, it seems to have spun out into a little narrative; we'll see how that goes.

However the series itself concern Fear, a considerable factor when we're talking about a culture that produces Hidden Villages. Think about it, how cheap is life when your main export seems to be assassins and you hide your entire town (in theory) from other villages?

Warnings, I'm a mature writer. I'm going to bet there's sex in this eventually. Since I try to be a fair writer, there might even be slash; if the characters go there, *shrugs* they go there. I'll put up warnings for really explicit stuff for either variety.

Hiruzen is not nice. Awesome, kindly and avuncular: yes. But not right now. Right now hes the ninja politician, expecting powerplays and shurikens with extreme prejudice at all turns with equal aplomb.

He's also a sexist dinosaur, which is why all his references to ninja are masculine. Unfortunately in the Kishimoto's misogynistic hierarchy he may be accurate. Excellent kunoichi are far and few in-between. Even Tsunade seems to pale compared to Orochimaru and Juraiya.

Lastly, once I've gotten around to the provenance of Naruto's upbringing, I may have a contest/rewards for reviewers, leave a review, get to nominate a character for the PoV of the next sketch. Tell me if that works for you.

Happy Occidental and Chinese New Years guys!


	3. Chap 3: Piss beside the river

disclaimer: by the power vested in fiction - it is mine. Please do send me royalties.

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><p><strong>Fear: Power <strong>

_by the Burned_Out_Sage_

When you know every choice is poisoned, you lie to yourself before you drink.

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><p><em>Where the fireflies burn over damson poison.<em>

A little poetry that meant many things to many people, flowers, lanterns,fireworks, maybe actual fireflies over a river you spoke sweet words in the dark to, woo, trying to seduce the sashes open.

Only three people would think of the swallows over the Gomi River outside Ame. A stinking little village. A bug bred in the trash with a single virtue, on a rare dry day, would glint metallically in the reincarnated road mud. Flash and swoop, an existence collapsing to another.

Hime had never seen it herself, just a wish to in the future-better-days, old bitterness rising,_ 'just that oil and sake bastard Ohime take Juraiya's rather poignant observation on beauty and ugliness, and polish it into some fucking cantilevered haiku. Asshole. As always.'_

Practically, it was a jewel of obscure and private, something only the Sannin shared. So tiny it became a perfect cipher for a secret.

_Secret: Meet me on a dry day overlooking the Gomi again._

There was never a question if he would go, just what piece he'd lose this time.

Promises were like bear traps- they bit. Protect the boy, to protect the village. Sharp promises, the weight of a village and man - fuck no, the the son to him. The Village versus Minato's legacy. Razor - no the leafs edge, the balance precarious.

Hangover memories bitter. Like bile. It gorged as he walked. His bladder felt full.

A simple choice Sensei offered, except it was no choice at all. 'Be the Spymaster since Homura retired, silently, secretly, alluringly, whispering beneath his orders, Orochimaru and Tsunade was yours._ 'Mine. Mine to bring home, mine to keep safe.'_

_Meretricious_. A word he wanted to use in the sequel, but Minato laughed, called it pretentious. But he knew the word.

The warping floorboards of house crammed with the threnody of the halfwaydead, new minted from expunged families. One more crying child, but this one with a family. Of sorts. On the road, a spy cannot carry a child.

The river flew swift, more importantly there was no cover for shinobi, no unsettling presentiment old ninja before ambush. Thick fingers fumbled through his robes to release his water.

Weighed against family of another sort. Piss on Leaf, find the Mina ... Kushina's child, escape the village ... try to raise the child. He shuddered. Shinobi ate their young.

Mumbling a benediction into the river, "For once, duty was lighter: Grow straight and strong boy. Or crooked and rotten. But just do it away without the guilt sickness you ooze."

_'And please don't die.'_

The mud warmed in the sun releasing and mingling the smell of damson earth and trash. It would be dry in a few days. 

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><p>Whee, that just took a few years. But with a nom de guerre like mine *shrugs*, fuck it, this only happened because someone commented. Was a hey, there is enough merit in what I write that I could reach across electrons and move another person to ignore seduction of the Internet.<p>

Thank you Internet muse *laughs*.

It may be obvious now that things aren't quite as depicted in the manga, yet the avowed purpose is that most of the material slips in smoothly like the shadow of a thing. Distorted but obviously cast by the original.

Heres my take. Naruto, potential aside, is a dumb determinator. Whos naive as fuck, and oh-so-good-it-hurts to spill out the ugly truths of the world. And you m'dears, also get the shonen jump version of the truth in flashbacks and anything that doesn't directly happen in script.


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